


The Calm within the Storm

by PineTrain



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Awkward Tension, College, F/M, Fluff, Hanging Out, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 02:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14740679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PineTrain/pseuds/PineTrain





	The Calm within the Storm

Thanks to [@pc-the-unicorn](https://tmblr.co/mK8ZB1i93phHl7uXLCj_AXw) for the prompt and [@edward-or-ford](https://tmblr.co/mcWmP17SlZYqJtOC0hJjt2Q) for being a second reader on this.

* * *

Today was pretty gross. Overcast, windy, cold, just a plethora of nastiness. Not as bad as it could be, but the kind of day you'd much rather stay inside.

Yet it was also the weekend Dipper was visiting various colleges in Oregon to tour and decide which he would apply to. Most people choosing to go to college would have done this a year ago, but a sudden opportunity to join his Grunkles on one of their wild expeditions had arisen right before graduating high school, thereby delaying his and his sister’s plans for higher education. But really, disrupted plans were hardly a difficult bullet to bite considering what they got out of it.

Still, he had to get back on track at some point, so here he was, hitting the road and doing just that. Despite the miserable weather today, he had a light at the end of the tunnel that kept him warm through it all even more than his jacket. This was Wendy's college, and when he had finished with the tour and his minor exploration of the neighboring college town he headed to her place to see his old friend.

“Hey W-” he had barely been able to say when she opened the door, her powerful arms quickly crushing his ribs upwards and forcing the air from his lungs. A Corduroy’s blood only grew stronger as they aged and Wendy was certainly a shining star on the family tree. A tall tree, too, seeing as despite his eventually achieving a coveted six-foot status she still towered above him by several inches.

“Plah,” Dipper exhaled uselessly, his body falling limp as the last vestiges of oxygen left him. “So this is how I die. Oh well, not too bad.”

“Pff, don't be such a drama queen,” Wendy laughed, chucking him roughly onto a chair near the door. “I'm glad it wouldn't have been too bad, though.”

Shifting to a more comfortable position, Dipper glanced up at Wendy’s smirking face, realizing he'd actually said those words instead of simply thinking them. Cocking his head, he shrugged. “A tick off the bucket list,” he said nonchalantly.

Wendy had been in the process of turning away, but she immediately looked back at him and straightened her poise. “Bucket list?” she asked curiously.

“Oh, uh, you know, a list in case you kick the-” Dipper said.

“Bucket,” Wendy finished. “Yeah, I know. So what did you tick off?”

“Er, uh… a near-death experience?”

“You had a near-death experience on your bucket list?”

“Yeeeessss…” Dipper said through a toothy, false grin as he took off his jacket. His movements were somewhat stilted and one of his elbows caught on the fabric, not helping his attempt to act normal.

Wendy rolled her eyes and shrugged, “If you don't wanna tell me, whatever. You should be more honest though, you know I like that better.”

Dipper blinked, stuck in a mix of light shame after she saw through his lie and confusion as she said something tantalizingly ambiguous right after. Yes, he did know she had a preference for straightforward honesty most of the time, but he also knew she wasn't against lies when they had their uses. Context was what was important, and he wasn't entirely sure how she saw the context of his lie when she disapproved.

He'd never quite been able to erase his technically-preteen crush on Wendy, though it's strength waxed and waned randomly over the years. He was currently in a Full Moon situation on the matter, hope seeping through him that their age difference might no longer be an impediment considering they would both be in college now. That was a definite sort of context that heavily colored his understanding of her words, even if he wanted to stay rational about it all.

Perhaps she realized why he had lied and was telling him to stop? That was probably just reading things how he wanted, though. In any case, he was reluctant to say, “Hugged by Wendy so hard I’d think I'd die.”

A silly and overly complex thing to want, and one not technically fulfilled. Yes, he'd just had that happen, but not the way he wanted. Maybe it was stupidly romantic, but he meant death by intensity of emotion. That she’d hug him in just the right way that he knew she truly loved him, and that he’d feel like his heart might explode when it happened. Not something he had ever expected to happen, hence his ticking of a box that didn't really deserve it.

They moved past it, though, Wendy ignoring the awkwardness he'd accidentally added to the evening. Instead of dwelling on it, she flicked his forehead and gestured to the living room with her thumb. Dipper tossed his jacket onto the chair and followed her to find the couch already set up as a bed. A curious decision, since it wasn’t very late in the evening.

“Becky insisted on setting it up,” Wendy explained. “She's really got that ‘mom-mode’ on 24/7. Sometimes it's nice, sometimes it's weird. But yeah, she's spending the night at her fiancé’s,” Wendy paused, mouthing ‘mom-mode’ again, largely and meaningfully, “so she won't be coming back, but she also didn't trust me to give you a place to sleep.”

“Well… that's polite of her to me, I guess. Kind of a jackass move to you, though,” Dipper mused.

“Eh, she's probably right. I might have forgotten to make the couch up for you. But it's not a big deal, you could've just slept in my bed if I did.”

A shiver shot up Dipper’s spine. He resisted looking to Wendy for an answer to what the hell that meant, mostly in fear of the answer itself. He doubted he could handle either a yes or a no.

“Kind of annoying though,” Wendy continued. “Like, where are we supposed to watch TV if it's your bed, right?”

Dipper finally worked up some courage and turned to her, intending to ask about her bed. A low rumble interrupted him, though, and they both looked upwards. The sound of droplets tinking against the windows filled the house rapidly as what had previously been relative calm grew into something more intense. Not the sort of storm that should be worried about, but pretty harsh nonetheless.

“Huh, thought it wasn’t supposed to rain,” Wendy said.

Indeed, it wasn't a likely chance if the weather report that morning had been correct. A 20% chance was still a chance, however, so Dipper wasn't really surprised it happened. He was, however, surprised by the sudden intensity, since he normally equated a low likelihood of rain to a comparatively weak storm should it happen. Nothing like gusting winds and rattling booms that had so quickly started.

“Er, uh, didn't you have another roommate? Besides, um, ‘Becky’?” he asked.

“Yeah, Sammers. Her band was gonna play in the park tonight. Guess that's cancelled,” Wendy said with a shrug. She eyed him, a smirk growing on her face, “Don't worry about her, she'll be fine. It's cool of you to be concerned, though. You don't even know her.” She reached over and ruffled his hair. With a blink, she looked like she realized something and murmured under her breath.

Dipper couldn't hear her, and her lips didn't move enough to read, but he was currently more focused on her contact. It was a nice sensation, yet unfortunately also one he remembered from when he was much younger, so he was reluctant to enjoy it. He decided to redirect the conversation, “Okay, but ‘Sammers’?”

Wendy blinked a second time and retracted her hand. With laugh and a shake of her head, she shrugged again. “It's a nickname for Samantha. The full thing is Slammin’ Sammers and, well, maybe I'll tell you how she got it later. It's kind of a long story. Pretty cool, though. Anyways, lemme check something real quick?”

“Huh?” Dipper eked out just as her hand returned to his head, lifting his bangs.

“So it is still there,” Wendy said.

“Well, yeah, it's a birthmark,” Dipper grumbled, reaching his own hand up to nudge hers away.

“Sorry,” Wendy apologized, closing one eye to show sincerity, “Don't know how I missed it, but I just noticed you weren't wearing a hat. You finally get over that?”

Dipper glanced aside, reflecting on how long it'd been since he'd last seen her. It wasn’t an overwhelming length of time, but long enough that he hadn't heard someone be surprised by the missing garment in a while. “Not entirely,” he said honestly. “I mean, I still grow my hair over it. And I’ve only done it since our senior prom. It was easier to do after that, though.”

“Prom?” Wendy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Mabel insisted. She said it'd ruin the picture if I wore one.”

“Haha, good to know she's still keeping you in line on romance. Must have been someone pretty hot you went with.”

Dipper blushed and rubbed his head awkwardly. “Errrrr, it was Mabel.”

“Oh, oh! Hahaha! Well, she is pretty hot, I guess, but that's sort of weird for you to think, huh? Sorry,” Wendy said understandingly. “So neither of you were dating anyone?”

“Not then. We were both pretty busy with school projects and stuff so it was hard to do any dating, y’know?”

Wendy nodded. “So it's been a while, then? Since you dated anyone. Like with all that, and then your little adventure with Stan and Ford? Oh! Remind me to ask you about that later! I bet it was rad!”

“Sure! I mean, about the r-reminder,” Dipper stuttered, messed up a bit in his answer as the first part of her words caught up with the last in his head. “And y-yeah, I guess it has been a while. Um, what about you?” he asked, a few miniscule beads of sweat appearing on the back of his neck.

“Eeeeh…” Wendy grimaced. “Same as you. Like, you hear about how crazy college is in all the movies and stuff, but, man, the guys here are dull. I tried with a few girls too, but either I'm not really into them or it’s the same story. I mean, after growing up in Gravity Falls? Pfff, I saw crazier stuff by the time I was 5!” Her expression instantly turned gleeful and she excitedly said, “Oh! Check it! My dad found a bunch of old drawings I made when I was a kid and I realized my first crush was YOU! How's that work?”

“Wh-what? Really?”

“Yeah, no doubt,” Wendy laughed. “The drawing sucked, but it was a boy with a white and blue hat and a pine tree on it. I’m like, 99% sure those didn't exist back then.” She shook her head downwards with a smile. “There were hearts all over it and everything.”

“Oh, heh, um, well, there was this one time me and Mabel went back in, er, time the first summer we were in Gravity Falls. And, uh, we did kind of run into you and Tambry, and, uh, you did say I was cute. But we only met for, like, a minute,” Dipper mumbled. He'd never told Wendy about that for a reason.

“Time travel, eh? Not surprised. And hey, little girls get crushes on random guys all the time. Look at Mabel,” Wendy said with a shrug.

“Mabel’s a bad example,” he countered. “She's Mabel.”

“Yeah, that's true. Still, I'm surprised you remember what I said when we met if it was only for a minute. That was years ago.”

“Well, I mean, it kind of made an impact. Flashbulb memory and all. I had a crush on you then,” Dipper said, averting his eyes so he wouldn't give away it was still around.

“Now THAT’S weird! When I was just a kid?!” Wendy exclaimed, taking a step back.

“Wha-? No!” Dipper yelled in a panic. “I meant I had a crush on older-you so it, like, even if it was younger-you, it was still you and I realized it was weird, but it still made it stick in my memory and-”

“Dude, dude, calm down,” Wendy said with a wry smile. “I'm just messing with you.”

“I just, heh,” Dipper shrugged, trying to calm his racing heart, “I just wanted to make sure you didn't think I was into anything weird.”

“Hey man,” Wendy said, moving to his side and wrapping an arm over his shoulder to pull their faces closer conspiratorially. “Weird is good. Like, not that kind of weird, but you know what I mean. It reminds me of home, not like these boring guys and girls around here. Besides,” she chuckled, “now you know how I felt.”

“That's what Mabel said…” Dipper muttered, feeling very aware of their proximity.

“Heh, yeah, shame you weren't older then,” she said ambiguously, knocking their temples together and releasing him. “Anyways!” she clapped her hands together. “I was gonna order us a pizza later. But with this storm and all, that seems kind of mean to the delivery guy. I think Becky had some naan in the pantry, though. Maybe we can make our own?”

Dipper rubbed his temple gently and nodded, only half-listening as he followed her into the kitchen. “Older _then_ ,” she had said, not just “older.” He could understand her using the past tense since they were talking about when he was 12, but “then” made it sound like she was differentiating that time from now. Was that intentional? Was he reading too much into things? Probably, though his sister would disparage his pessimism if she was around.

Wendy retrieved a plastic packet from the pantry on the far side of the kitchen from him. “Bingo,” she said, tossing it on a countertop as she headed to the fridge. “Now let's see what we got for toppings…”

“She's not going to mind us eating her food, right?” Dipper asked while she peered at the cold contents.

“Nah. Normally she might, but with the storm and all she might even be happy. Especially if I mention it was to save the delivery man. Not at lot in here, though…”

“Well, um, what _is_ in there?” Dipper queried, hoping to help.

“Here,” she beckoned with a wave of her hand. “Come look.”

Wendy stepped aside to make room for him, but they were still close enough that their arms slightly pressed against each other. He gulped at feeling her skin directly against his, warm and soft. Was that creepy? Yeah, it sort of was. But it wasn't _too_ creepy. At least Dipper hoped it wasn’t.

“Yeah, see, not a lot,” Wendy repeated. The fridge was indeed sparse, the few contents it carried being mostly jars of condiments with a single box of leftovers. “I know we got cheese, though!” she said proudly, leaning to pull open the upper of two drawers at the base of the fridge. There was a bag of presumably shredded cheese lying facedown on one side of it. “Becky’s the only one who buys food on the reg, but I usually make sure I got some stuff for a quick quesadilla or whatever.” She picked up the bag and immediately frowned, turning it to reveal a mostly empty window on the front. “Sammers…”  she grumbled menacingly.

Dipper reflected on the irony of her being mad about someone eating her food when they were eating someone else's, but wisely decided not to mention it. Instead he pointed to the other side of the drawer, where a large mozzarella ball sat in its unopened packaging. “What about that?”

“Ah, that's Becky’s, too. She likes to make these salads with it and tomatoes and basil.”

“Caprese?”

“I think that's what she called it. But yeah, that's actually how I thought we could make the sauce.” Wendy closed the drawer and opened the other, revealing a mess of thin plastic bags containing various vegetables. Rooting around, she pulled up one holding a single, albeit large, tomato. “Oh… I thought she'd have more. I don't think this enough for sauce.”

“Don't you normally use crushed tomatoes to make sauce?” Dipper asked.

“I dunno, man. I normally do the eating, not the making, you know?” Wendy laughed. “Only reason I had the idea to use naan was because one time I got home and Becky had everything set up already.”

“Well, you have olive oil, right?”

Wendy nodded. “We definitely got that. A whole big jug of refill for it, too.”

“Then how about a caprese pizza?” Dipper offered.

“Uh… but wouldn't it be hard to shred the cheese? The mozzarella’s kinda wet when you open it,” Wendy said, a dubious look in her eye.

“Not really, but we wouldn't shred it anyway. You slice it and it'll melt a bit in the oven. And we'll use olive oil instead of tomato sauce for the base.”

Wendy smiled and boxed his arm lightly. “Look at you with the good ideas! It's not the kind of pizza I'd normally get, but that sounds pretty good with what we have. Here, you grab the food and I'll get the cutting board.”

They set to work, Dipper soon realizing it was a bit early to eat. Wendy shrugged it off since they'd already gotten started, so he did the same. He was glad for her answer, too, since he'd only mentioned it out of a sense of obligation to alert her. He liked how things were at the moment, chatting with her as they worked side-by-side. It had a strangely homey feeling: Natural and relaxed, but with a soft warmth that wasn't typically a part of mundane conversation. He wondered if this was what domestic life felt like, the simple enjoyment of another’s presence.

Of course, the occasional brushes of contact helped his enjoyment a fair bit. Combined with the realization he'd just indirectly thought of them as married, Dipper found his pulse starting to tick up gradually. There was actually a bit of relief in finishing and placing the pizzas in the oven, however fun their construction had been. The spacing between them as they sat at the dining room table to wait offered some breathing room to collect himself. When the timer dinged, and they retrieved their pizzas, Dipper already felt calmer, but he noticed Wendy scowling slightly.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said, turning to him and flipping the scowl into an equally small grin. “Just, you know, there's that great pizza smell when they're fresh out of the oven and I guess I kind of expected it now, but it's not really there.”

Dipper nodded. Despite the tasty appearance of their caprese pizzas, they absolutely lacked the smell of a freshly cooked meat-lovers that they would have ordered were it not for the storm. Even without the scent of meat on them, she had probably hoped for a bit more than they got considering they were literally fresh out of the oven. She had said that the Becky had a whole layout set up the last time she did this, and it no doubt included some meat, so her precedence had just been shattered.

“Well, they're small,” he offered, setting a hand on her shoulder.

Wendy glanced at it in the corner of her eye. “Yeah, I guess they are.”

Dipper almost flinched his hand away, but caught himself and instead removed it more naturally. Not too fast, not too slow. She clearly noticed it enough to direct her attention to it, but she didn't comment. Should he not have done that?

“Let's eat them in the living room,” Wendy said, her tone neutral and offering him no answers as she placed the pizzas on plates.

“What about the bed setup?” Dipper asked, following her to the room.

“Ah, whatever,” Wendy said nonchalantly. “We can just move it out of the way and set it up again later. Or we could just sit on it and be careful not to spill anything.” She looked back at him slyly, then glanced up in thought. “Oh, we forgot drinks. Want a beer?”

Dipper stared at her. “Uh, sure, why not?”

It wasn't the offer of alcohol that had given him pause, but her expression just before it. The expression right after mentioning being careful not to spill on the sheets. Setting his plate on the coffee table, he looked at the spread on he couch, pulling his hand to his chin in thought. She didn't seem annoyed with him. Was she trying to hint something here? He sat down without moving the sheet.

Wendy returned with her hands overly filled. She still held the plate with her pizza in her left, but a small bottle of hot sauce was hanging beneath, locked between two fingers. The right was much the same, but instead with a beer can and weirdly curved scissors looped around the pinky. A second beer can was carried by her mouth, bouncing against her chin as she walked with its rim held by her teeth.

Dipper watched as she carefully set down the hot sauce and plate, then used the free hand to help with the scissors. Grasping the second can, she released it from her mouth and tossed it to him. “I remembered some other stuff while I was in the kitchen. Hot sauce is pretty good on pizza if you haven't tried and these pizza scissors are handy.” She sat down next to him. “Glad you didn't move the sheets, by the way, I don't think I'd feel like setting it up later. Becky totally called me on that, haha!”

Dipper chuckled along with her, cracking open his beer with slightly trembling fingers. He had seen that her upper lip didn't touch the can, but her lower had to have, right? The can had been bumping around while she walked. Which part of the can had been facing away from her? The opposite side would be where contact was made, but he hadn’t been paying enough attention to it. Dipper looked down at the opening and hesitated.

“Something wrong, man?” Wendy asked, sipping her own beer.

“Um, no,” he answered, bringing the can to his lips and taking a swig. Out of the corner of his eye, he checked to see if Wendy reacted at all, but she was leaning forward to cut her pizza so he couldn't see her face.

Well, even if had been intentional, wasn't it a bit dorky to consider that an indirect kiss? Maybe he _was_ still the kid he feared Wendy saw when she looked at him. She was in her 20s, not her teens. She was probably more mature than that.

“Dude,” Wendy bumped him with her elbow. “I am sensing some serious stank on you. What's up?”

Dipper looked at her, considered her words, her actions, her face right now. “I just thought it was weird that you gave me the beer you had in your mouth.”

Wendy stared at him silently. Now that he said it, he regretted his words, even though he'd wanted so much to say them he hadn't even had a chance to convince himself not to. A panic seized him, but he kept himself steady.

“I guess I did,” Wendy said. “Sorry, I wasn't thinking. I’d ask if you wanted to trade, but you already drank from it, so…”

“It’s fine. Whatever, right?” Dipper said, sipping the beer again.

Wendy kept looking at him, her expression unreadable. “Right,” she said, sipping her beer as he had. “Let's watch something.”

Dipper held a hand to his chest after she turned her attention to the TV. He quickly removed it, lest she notice, but it helped him slide down the precarious slope of handling what just happened. There was something very intense about it, but it all still felt so weirdly uncertain.

That was flirting. Wasn't it? Maybe not exactly with words, but with the mood just now. Dorkiness of an indirect kiss or not, he'd brought it up and she seemed okay with it. Like, she had to have understood what he was getting at, right?

Dipper looked at the opening on the can again, wondering if sipping the beer, as smooth a move as it was, might better have been replaced by accepting a trade. She'd implied she wasn't actually going to ask for that, but what if he'd just said “Yes”? Would she have traded anyways, knowing what he meant?

He watched her flick through the channels on the TV, not really seeing it as he felt increasingly flustered debating with himself. Leaning forward, Dipper grabbed his pizza off the plate and crammed it in his face as he sought comfort food. Viciously tearing off a large bite, he put it back down and munched.

And munched and munched in odd silence. The TV still played and the storm outside still rattled the windows, but things were quiet in an important way. Dipper looked aside to see Wendy staring at him with a raised eyebrow and he became very aware of the greasy feeling of olive oil on his cheeks from his forceful bite.

“Dude. You okay?”

Dipper sighed heavily in his mind. Her voice was full of legitimate concern. Even if she'd been flirting with him before there was no way she'd keep doing it if she thought he was freaking about something. Wendy wasn't like that

“Yeah, it's just this storm is kind of stressing me out.”

Dipper didn't know if it was a lie or not, partially because he didn't know if he was being literal or metaphorical. Was the storm just in his mind? Was the storm in his mind happening because the storm outside put him in this situation? Was he just trying to rationalize a bullshit excuse after he made it?

“Yo, Dipper,” Wendy said. She wrapped an arm around him and squeezed him tight to her. He thought he'd panic, but instead he felt a calm warmth spread through him. There was something very solid in her grip besides pure strength. Something more than physical that he could hold on to and stabilize himself. “You're better with TVs. See if you can find that one channel, the one from Gravity Falls. I'll go get you a napkin while you do.”

She sounded motherly when she said it. Concerned motherly, which didn't seem like a good thing. He was letting his emotions get the better of him and shooting himself in the foot. Even if she was interested in him now, was she going to stay interested if he kept freaking out? How did this all feel even more difficult than when he was 12?

Probably because he was starting to think like his 12 year old self again. He was getting worked up in spirals of debate on how best to act and completely sabotaging himself in the process. He wasn't even here to try and woo her, just to hang out with an old friend for the night. They were alone, yeah, and something might could happen, but he shouldn't try to force it. Dipper slapped his cheeks to get his head back together, oil clinging to his fingers and serving as an extra reminder.

“Yo!”

Dipper turned his head in time to take the cloth napkin right to the face. Pausing a second, he figured that was where it needed to be anyways so he pressed his hands to his it and wiped off the oil. Pulling the napkin away he saw Wendy standing with a hand on her hip and a small, cheeky grin on her face.

“Better?” she asked.

Dipper wondered if she just meant in regards to his need for the napkin, or if she was really asking if he'd calmed down. “Yeah,” he said, since it answered both possibilities.

Wendy’s smile turned less cheeky and she returned to her seat. “Couldn't find the channel?” she asked, leaning forward to pick up her beer and take a large sip.

“No,” Dipper said, his answer technically truthful since he couldn't find it if he hadn't looked. He remembered her earlier comment about wanting him to be honest, but this sounded like she was giving him an out. “I do know this one other channel, though.”

Taking the controller in hand just as Wendy returned her beer to the table, Dipper noticed her grab the pizza scissors and his plate. “Thanks,” he simply said, searching the guide for the channel he mentioned.

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” Wendy responded. He was focused on the TV, but he thought he might have seen her flinch in the corner of his eye.

Perhaps another note to add to the list of things suggesting something could happen tonight. But he didn't dwell on this list, even if his brain wanted to compile it. Instead he found the channel, set down the remote, and lay back against the couch with his half-empty can in hand.

“Here,” Wendy said, sitting up and turning to him with a slice of his pizza. An interesting thing to do, but he wasn't dwelling on the list.

“Thanks,” he said, taking it from her. He chomped it idly, and his eyes shot open as heat dribbled off the bite and onto his tongue.

Wendy's face twisted with barely contained mirth as Dipper struggled to quickly chew and swallow the food. Tears began dripping down his cheeks and he let out a cough that only led to him inhaling some of the heat into his lungs. It really wasn't too spicy a sauce, but he was surprised and there was a lot of it all at once.

The perpetrator sitting next to him covered her mouth with her hand and glanced away when his watery eyes glared at her. “You should pay more attention to what you eat, my dude” she said, her cheeks twitching as she suppressed a laugh.

“You're right,” Dipper said, struggling to maintain a steady face as the heat spread uncomfortably to his nostrils. “Here, let me get you a slice as thanks for the advice.” He turned and grabbed the bottle of hot sauce, still open from her trick, then moved to grab her plate.

“No way, man!” Wendy exclaimed, darting to beat him. She was too late, though, the dish slipping just out of her grasp as he pulled it away. “Nooo, come on! Dipper! For real?”

She flopped against him as she complained in defeat. Dipper held her plate away from her in one hand and the tilted bottle of hot sauce in the other. He glanced at her goofy, begging eyes and narrowed his own. “For real.”

“Pfffffff,” Wendy snickered as he recklessly dumped hot sauce all over her pizza. She boxed him in the ribs and pushed a hand between his back and the couch, planting it on his opposite side to support herself as she pressed against him. “You know we gotta split this now, right?”

“Y-yeah,” Dipper stuttered, realizing he'd completely smothered her pizza. She might have said hot sauce was good on it, but this was ridiculous. He looked at his own pizza, understanding that they'd be splitting it as well. Of course, he was just trying to distract himself from her arm with these thoughts.

It was weird, because it was literally just her arm on his back. Not embracing him, not moving, not doing anything but being where it was. Yet there was something about it, something more attention grabbing than how the rest of her felt on him.

Maybe it was the aggression of it. Not merely invading his personal space like the rest of her, but pushing through it with commanding force, like she was taking what she wanted. Which was pizza, right? On the surface, at least.

Dipper leaned forward to set her plate back on the table. He half expected her to fully flop over behind him, but instead she straightened herself and moved with him. Just as he put the plate down, she snatched a slice from it, bringing it to herself with one hand under to catch any falling red droplets. Not even hesitating, she took a large bite, then another, then crammed the rest of it in her mouth, her cheeks bulging as she forcibly chewed the mass.

Dipper watched in awe, impressed at how steady her expression was despite the quantity of hot sauce swimming around her mouth. He'd had just a bite, so he could only imagine an entire slice slathered with it. Wendy was resolute, though, and no tears fell from her eyes even if she started turning a bit red from the heat. Finally swallowing it down, she gave him a thumbs up.

“Good stuff!” she said, her voice rough. She immediately coughed, spice blatant on her breath. They shared a smile, then a laugh, Wendy's quickly devolving into more coughs as she recovered.

“Here, maybe this’ll help,” Dipper said, grabbing one of his non-hot-saucified slices and holding it to her.

“One-*COUGH*-sec!” Wendy choked out, holding a finger up as she finished the last of her beer, gasping a bit afterwards. With a nod to him, she held her mouth open and her eyes closed.

Blushing, Dipper hesitated. He expected her to take it from him, but apparently she wanted him to feed her. He didn't have time to think about this, though, since he was trying to alleviate her situation, so he tried to keep his hand steady as he reached out to put the slice between her teeth.

It brushed the corner of her mouth and she immediately chomped down, tearing away much like he had earlier. She shot him a wink, but the tear that leaked from her eye concerned him. “Lemme get you another beer,” he said.

Wendy nodded and he stood to head to the kitchen. It afforded him some time to think, but not much since he wanted to get her some more relief from the hot sauce ASAP. Dipper again remembered how he handled things when he was 12, and he wondered what Tyrone might think about how things were going. Probably a thumbs up, as long as Dipper kept things natural. Grabbing two beers from the fridge, he headed back.

And returned to find absolutely none of his pizza remaining. Dipper paused to stare at the empty plate, then at the red-covered mess of Wendy's, before his eyes finally settled on the smug visage of the girl herself. “I thought we were sharing,” he chastised.

She kept her grin stoic for a few seconds before it fell sheepishly. “Heheheh, just screwing with you.” He flinched at the word choice. “I put your stuff under mine.”

“Wait, so…?” Dipper asked.

“Yep, dude! Aaaall the food's covered in hot sauce!” Wendy said with a grin. Flexing an arm, she set her other hand on her bicep in a confident gesture. “You ready for this?”

Dipper stared blankly at her, a reaction that seemed to make her happy. He idly chucked a can to her and cracked open his own. Taking a long hard swig, he turned back and went to get another pair of cans. They were going to need them to choke down this meal down.

It was an interesting endeavor, and it certainly helped spread the food out over time as they recovered from each bite. Sipping their beers with occasional coughs, they finally paid attention to the TV. It wasn't quite as good as if he had actually taken the time to try and find the one they watched in Gravity Falls, but that was just because it lacked the full weight of nostalgia that would have provided. This was close enough in content, maybe a 3/4ths nostalgia rating. Certainly enough to put them back into the old swing of laughing at terrible movies together.

Perhaps that was why, when they finally finished the food and Dipper took the plates to the kitchen, he returned to find the TV off and Wendy standing near the hallway. “C’mon,” she said, beckoning him with a wave. Maybe she wanted to fill in that last 1/4th by moving things to her room.

Picking up the beer he'd left on the table, Dipper followed her obediently. A rumble of thunder rolled through the house and the lights dimmed for a moment. He didn't like that, too ominous. It was putting him back in the overthinking mindset he'd been able to forget. He shrugged it off as best he could.

Wendy's room was remarkably sparse, or, the walls were besides a single Mystery Shack poster near the bed; the floor had a decent gathering of discarded clothes. The lack of decorations reminded Dipper of the dating frustrations she mentioned. Maybe things were so mundane for her here that she couldn't bring herself to “set down roots” so to speak. He looked at the poster and wondered if she was homesick.

“Hey, meet my fiancé,” Wendy said, chucking a stuffed animal at him.

Dipper caught it, and saw it was a rabbit. “I didn't know you broke up with your ‘new boyfriend’,” he said. “How's he handling the marriage proposal?”

Wendy doubled over with a laugh. Straightening up after a second or two, she brushed some errant hair from her eyes. “I can't believe you remembered that, dude. I thought I was going to have to remind you. Would have made it a pretty crappy joke.”

“How could I forget?” Dipper asked. “I was pretty jealous of that walrus back in the day.”

“Jealous?” Wendy asked, raising an eyebrow. “What about Mr. Rabbit Corduroy here?”

Dipper hesitated, wary of a straightforward answer. “Well, um, if he was jealous then I guess he won in the end?” He saw a subtle twitch in Wendy's eye, but she laughed nonetheless. “Corduroy?” he asked.

“Eh, he doesn't have a last name so obviously he'll take mine,” Wendy said with a shrug. “If he did, though, I guess we'd talk about what sounded best for the both of us.” She moved to busy herself with the small CRT TV on her dresser.

Hmmm. Mason Corduroy. Wendy Pines. Which might sound better?

Dipper shifted a bit, glad she wasn't looking his way. They weren't even dating so those thoughts were definitely weird. Damnit, he was seriously off-kilter. “ _Get it together, man!”_ he thought to himself.

Looking at her bed, he found its unmade blankets askew. He supposed he'd be sleeping here tonight since plenty of hot sauce had spilled onto the couch setup. So much for Becky’s efforts, though she'd probably appreciate the red dots not reaching the cushions themselves from how Wendy had described her.

He was glad for the mundanity of the thought, since it prevented his face from growing flush when she turned around. She hopped onto the bed with her legs spread. Her arm twitched forward, but froze, and she instead shuffled backwards so she could lay on her stomach. The same arm patted at her side. Dipper noted how it had to cross her body to do so.

Following her gesture, he sat at where she'd motioned. It was one of two places he’d commonly occupied when younger while they watched these movies. The other was the place she'd obviously been about to indicate before adjusting herself. Even if the half-gesture hadn't been enough, the fact she used the same hand when her other would have been easier struck him as an unconscious indication of what she wanted.

As much as that felt like possibly reading too much into things, he also somehow felt very certain about this particular moment. Dipper knew he could still be wrong, but he also knew why he felt so sure. That other position, him between her legs and embraced about his waist, well, it was sort of a defining aspect of their relationship for obvious reasons. When he was 12, he'd hoped it meant something more, only to be disappointed it didn't. It was more a reflection of how much she _didn't_ see him romantically at the time and could hold him without worry of implications. But now, after everything going on tonight, the fact that she changed her mind about sitting that way made him majorly curious.

The unfortunate thing was he didn’t know how to progress. If he was reading these things right, then if he made a move… But what move could he even make? Looking back, it seemed like Wendy was somewhat reluctant, and again, that was assuming he was even correct about what was going on.

Wendy barked out a sudden laugh, surprising him. “Oh my god, that shot, right?”

“Huh?”

She turned to him. “Dude, you weren't paying attention?”

“Uh, no. I was thinking,” Dipper answered sheepishly. Thinking quickly, he strategically brought the hand closer to her up to scratch his nose.

“About what?” she queried.

“N-nothing important,” he responded, setting his hand back on the bed, but nearer to her than it had been before. It was about as much as he was willing to do at the moment.

Wendy glanced back at it. After a moment of pause, she swiped backwards with her own, passing through the gap and catching his forearm. She clamped it inside her elbow as her arm completed its sweep to rest on her back. The force of the tug brought Dipper with it and the shock of adrenaline slowed time enough that he realized his elbow would land on her spine the way he was falling, so he shifted it outward and instead his body flopped uncomfortably over hers.

“About what?” she asked again.

It occurred to Dipper that the angle of her arm was one normally used to pin people down, but somehow he was the one who felt stuck in place. That was Wendy for you. “Nothing important,” he repeated, this time defiantly in the face of the situation.

“Ohoho,” Wendy chortled. “You know how this is about to go, right?”

“I grew up with Mabel. I can handle myself,” he answered.

Wendy tightened her arm slightly. “Mabel’s one thing. I don't think you're ready for the next level.”

“You shouldn't underestimate Mabel. You might be surprised more than you'd like.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“It's a warning.”

Wendy paused, which let Dipper feel embarrassed by his bravado. He sensed he'd dug a grave, and now he was going to have to struggle not to lie in it. And for whatever truth there was to his statements about wrestling with Mabel, he knew there was truth to her statement about levels.

The next moment was a blur. He didn't even have time to understand what she'd done to pop him into the air before he landed atop the bed on his back. Her movements were even quicker than he expected after how long he'd known her, but fortunately his instincts kicked in and he caught her right wrist in his left hand when she reached for him. Turning his body to tug it away from her, she lost her balance and flopped across his side, allowing him to wrap an arm around her. The game was on, and he had the advantage.

Wendy steadied herself, though, and retaliated fiercely. They were a rolling ball of flailing arms and fumbling legs, each trying to restrict the other’s movement without being caught themselves. While he started with the advantage, Dipper quickly realized he was steadily losing ground as his limbs were caught for longer and longer periods of time before he could free them. He was tiring, but Wendy's energy seemed limitless.

He finally faltered when she caught him from behind, her legs wrapped about his waist so her feet could lock inside his legs and spread them.  Her arms held his to his chest in a powerful hug. They were upright, but her hold put his limbs either off-kilter or stuck in place and he had little to work with to try and change his situation. Resigned to defeat, Dipper noticed the TV playing in front of them. He would have laughed if he wasn't breathing heavily. This position felt a lot like that way they used to sit all those years ago, albeit somewhat different for obvious reasons.

“So,” Wendy gasped. “What were you thinking about?”

Dipper wiggled a last time in struggle, but her muscles tightened around him. He tilted his head to look at her in the corner of his eye, their positioning putting her face above his, but fairly close as well. Seeing her confident, victorious expression, garnished with red cheeks and small bands of sweat, suddenly made Dipper more aware of his heart. It couldn't beat faster, the exercise already taking care of that, but it could certainly beat louder as it echoed in his ears.

“Y-you…” he choked out. He couldn't even remember the specifics beyond that, but did they really matter now?

Wendy stared at him, her mouth hanging slightly open as her breath continued its return to a normal rate. It opened a bit more, like she was going to say something, but then closed. Her brow furrowed in thought and he saw her tongue slip barely out to wet her lips. She looked uncertain, which Dipper didn't know how to interpret. Her mouth opened again as she prepared to finally speak when-

*KRAKOOOM*

A brilliant flash illuminated the outside, the simultaneous sound indicating the lightning had struck very close. The lights, TV, air conditioning, everything, immediately cut off, plunging them into darkness and silence. There was just the rain on the window and the sound of their breath, his heart oddly quiet in the stillness of the moment. Another flash of lightning, further away than the first, briefly allowed him to see that same uncertain look on her face as he felt her arm drift upwards.

Subtle fingers touched his jawbone in the darkness, a few passing gently over it to settle on his cheek while the others curled beneath his chin. They didn't press hard, but he still felt them guide him to a different angle, one where he felt small bursts of warm air on his lips. He twitched in anticipation, his heart leaping when contact was made, something he never could have been ready for. Wendy pushed in and he reciprocated as best he could.

Which wasn't very well, since he was still awkwardly off-kilter. Wendy's lips pushed him down until her own position stopped her from going further. Unwrapping her legs, she shifted to his side, the hand on his chin slipping to his shoulder to help him lay on his back. Their kiss broke, but not the flow of the moment, the seconds agonizing as she straddled him and brought her face back to his.

Dipper felt her legs slide back and her elbows settle above his shoulders as her body slowly fell along him. Wendy peppered him with pecks upon his cheek, his chin, his nose, everywhere but his mouth. Frustrated at her teasing, he reached up to run his fingers into her red mane and find purchase against her scalp, pulling her back into a proper kiss. He felt her giggle, but didn't hear it since he'd be damned if he let her escape so quickly.

They stayed like this for several minutes, in a dark room occasionally lit by lightning and with a mood set to tune of heavy rain on the window and smacking lips on the bed. Dipper felt like he was floating and the only reason he wasn't flying away was because she was holding him down. He was gradually becoming more aware of her body on his and his hands drifted down to stroke her back, a low hum in her throat showing appreciation. If he'd been more focused he might have sensed things could possibly go further when-

*CLICK* *WHIRRRRR* *FZZZ*

The lights turned back on. The air conditioning turned back on. The old CRT TV turned back on. Everything turned back on. And they all together shocked the two out of their revery.

Gasping back when it happened, Dipper’s head bounced slightly off a bed spring. He looked up to find Wendy staring at him, her face, as red as her hair, no longer carrying the uncertain expression like before, but rather a rapidly falling one.

“Sh-shit!” she exclaimed, rolling off of him. “Fucking shit!”

“Wendy?” he asked after a bewildered pause, suddenly very concerned.

“Goddamn shit!” she said, quieter than her last curse.

“What's wrong?”

“I’m sorry, Dipper. I didn't mean to… Like, I specifically told myself not to, and I did it anyway!”

“Uh, did what?”

She looked at him like it was obvious. “All of that just now! I’m sorry.”

“I, uh, okay. Why?” he asked, confused.

“I'm just using you. Like a piece of meat or whatever. To get over how much I'm sick of this place.”

“Um, I mean, you know I liked it, right?”

“Well, yeah!” she said in exasperation. “Like, I knew you would because you had a crush on me, so it'd be easy. That's such a jackass thing to think.”

Dipper reflected on it. Would he have been hurt if this was all just a one time thing? If she'd just taken him to alleviate her stress one night, and then that would be that. He didn't really know at the moment, and he probably would never know since it hadn't happened that way. It was possible, though. Quite possible considering the longevity of his crush, however it waxed or waned over the years. He could see her point.

Still, was stress all there was to it?

“Well,” he started, trying to order his thoughts. This was seriously a time he wished he had planned out what to say. “So, you were thinking about doing this before I even got here?”

“Kinda, yeah,” Wendy muttered. “It just popped into my head after we planned on you staying here. I didn't think it would happen since I figured Becky or Sammers would be here. Then the storm happened and…”

“You told yourself not to?”

“Not right off the bat,” Wendy said. “I'm not so desperate that I need to hold back the second I have a chance.” She laughed with a touch of bitterness.

“Sooo, when?”

“I dunno…” she mused. “I mean, I dunno when I first did. There were a couple times.”

“What was one of them?”

Wendy eyed him, a small smirk in the corner of her mouth despite the frustration in her words. “What's it matter?”

Dipper crossed his arms and raised a disappointed eyebrow. “All these years and you're asking me that? Curiosity for curiosity’s sake.”

“Pff, still a nerd detective, huh?” Wendy chuckled. She hesitated a few seconds, but then spoke up. “With the pizzas. When you dumped all that hot sauce on mine.”

Yeah, Dipper could see that, remembering the feeling of her arm. “Was it the first time?”

“No. It wasn't the last either,” she said, raising a finger to her chin in thought.

“Was the last when we first got on the bed?”

She winced in embarrassment, likely remembering how she'd switched between where she wanted him to sit. “No... it was right before the lights went out.”

Dipper had figured that, but he wondered how many times were “a couple,” a surprisingly pleasant mystery for the evening. It was also fun seeing someone so cool in the face of almost anything be flustered. Especially since it was specifically related to him in a rather nice way.

Wendy snapped her fingers and he cocked his head. She glanced at him, her eyes meeting his, then drifting slightly up. “When I realized you didn't have a hat.”

“What? Why?” Dipper asked.

“I dunno,” Wendy shrugged. “It just… I mean, you always wore hats. It was different so it caught my attention. Y’know, once I did notice, heheh.”

“What? Like in a ‘he finally grew up’ sort of way?” Dipper asked, feigned indignity in his voice.

Wendy flung a hand at him dismissively. “What do I look like, an English professor? ‘Ah, yes, the motif of hats is strong with the character of Dipper!’” She sounded like she was imitating a specific person. “Nah, I never thought hats made you a kid or anything. It was just you.”

“So I'm not me without the hat?”

“Oh, shut up,” Wendy said with a glare, though the subtle smile showed she knew he was messing with her. “I said I don't know cuz I don't know.”

“Well, what if, and I'm just being hypothetical here, what if you really didn't just want this to be a one night stand? Deep down, I mean.”

“Ha, you'd like that, wouldn't you?”

Dipper shrugged noncommittally. “Could be cool. Would make picking a college an easier choice.”

“Pshaw! Don't decide that sort of thing just based on where your girlfriend already goes. What do you think phones and webcams are for?” Wendy looked away, twirling a finger in the long strands of her hair absent-mindedly. “I don't know, I kinda doubt it was more than stress that made me think about it.”

“Maybe, but you decided not to do anything. Why’d you have to keep reminding yourself?”

“Eh, I mean, it was great seeing you again. Like, this is so cheesy, but I really felt a lot better literally just seeing you. I've been a bit, mmm…”

“Homesick?” Dipper offered, gesturing at the lone poster of the room.

“Heh, I guess it's kind of obvious. But yeah, I mean, it just felt good hanging out with you the way we used to and I got a fuzzy feeling like what Mabel’s always talking about.”

“I'm pretty sure she calls that ‘love’,” Dipper said. Wendy rolled her eyes. “Hey, I'm just saying. You think you've heard her talk about it a lot? Imagine my situation.”

“Haha, yeah,” Wendy chuckled. “I don't think it's that, though…”

“Then what?”

Wendy reached over to grab a pillow and haphazardly throw it at him. “Come on, maaan,” she whined. “You're just trying to talk me back into this.”

Dipper caught the pillow in his arms as it fell from his face. “Maybe. Is it working?”

She looked away, running a hand in her hair, but he saw the grin she failed to hide. “No.”

“Darn,” Dipper snapped his fingers. “I just had the idea I could stay here tomorrow too instead of going to see the next college.”

“I told you not to pick a college based on where a girl’s at!” Wendy chastised, leaning towards him, tearing the pillow away, and whacking him with it.

“I'm not, though,” he responded. “I'm just not doing a tour. I can still find out stuff online or from pamphlets. Ask around. You know, detective stuff. I'm good at that.”

“You sure are,” Wendy said, whacking him with the pillow again. Dipper caught it on the follow-through and tore it back from her grasp. “Oho?” she said, with a dare in her eyes.

“Oho!” he answered, whacking at her.

She blocked the first swing, but he brought it back slower than she anticipated and her second block went high with its momentum, leaving her face open to the fluffy strike. Dipper continued his flailing swings as she uttered a deep guttural growl, then sprang from her seated position to tackle him. He tried to wrestle her off, but his muscles failed him, still tired from the last session. Ultimately he found his hands pinned above his head, Wendy staring down at him with an embarrassed glare.

“Fine, you dweeb,” she said, her voice level. “Maybe you're right. Maybe we can try this. Don't say I didn't warn you if I break your heart.”

Dipper nodded. “I've been warned, got it. I'm pretty confident it won't happen.” He actually wasn't, but it felt like the right thing to say.

Wendy raised an eyebrow. “Are you? What if I change my mind because I think you're too cocky?”

“Will you?”

“Depends on what happens tomorrow,” she said, sitting up and releasing him. She grabbed the pillow and chucked it to head of the bed. “We… probably shouldn't do anything more tonight, though.”

“More? Why not?” Dipper asked, not understanding until after the words were out of his mouth. He wished he hadn't said it, afraid it made him sound pushy.

Wendy glanced at him. “Because we have to share a bed and I don't want to jump your bones in the middle of the night. If we're going to try to do something long term… I mean, we should take it a bit slower…”

“Oh, yeah, that's a good idea,” Dipper agreed, feeling heated at the thought that Wendy still had to hold herself back.

*KRAKOOOM*

Another lightning bolt, another blackout. There was a quiet pause for a minute, Dipper’s heart getting louder in his ears. He couldn't see her, but he felt her move on the bed. Was she going to ignore what she just said?

Nope. Instead she got off of it and he heard her walk around the room. She would pause, fumble around, and there'd be a *flick* or a *click*, then she'd move on.

“We may as well go to bed, now,” she said. Dipper realized she was turning off the various electronics so they wouldn't come back on if power returned. It wasn't that late, but he got her logic. What the hell else was there for them to do after their discussion? “Hey, where are you?”

“Um, here!” he called out.

Wendy approached him until she bumped into the bed. Setting her hands on the springs, he heard her pat about until she found him. He remained still as they continued to pat up his body until they reached his cheeks. Holding him in place, she pressed her lips to his softly. There was a hint of hunger in them, but she didn't linger.

“A, uh, goodnight kiss,” she said. “Now lie down. I'm gonna be big spoon.”

Dipper flinched in surprise. He figured they would just lie side-by-side. He didn’t know spooning was on the table. “What if I want to be big spoon?”

“My bed, my rules. Besides, you're still smaller than me. And, well, I'm really on the edge here, dude. I don't need some ‘convincing’ from your little friend on my butt.”

“O-okay. Yeah, makes s-sense,” Dipper stuttered. His little friend hadn't actually been at attention, but her suggestion he might apparently changed his mind on the matter. What an annoying self-fulfilling prophecy.

Laying down, he felt her do the same a few seconds later. One arm slipped under his neck, the other his armpit, her hands clasping at his chest. Wendy tugged him in to her, and he wasn't sure if the thudding reverberating in his body was his heart or hers. There was a gentle peck on the back of his neck and he smiled to himself, bringing his hands to hold hers.

He didn't know how long it would take to fall asleep in these conditions, as exciting as they were. In fact, he didn't know if he wanted to fall asleep, since it felt so great basking in the warmth of this emotion. Unfortunately, Dipper knew he'd have to at some point since tomorrow would be quite a day and he'd need all his energy to make sure it was the best it could be.

But then, they'd gotten in bed early, so an hour or two of wakeful happiness wouldn't really hurt his sleep. He pulled one of her hands up and pecked her wrist to match the kiss to his neck. When he returned it to his chest, she squeezed him tightly with a quiet laugh that he felt along his skin. She lightly nuzzled the back of his head, more silent chuckles escaping her before a contented sigh followed.

The storm continued to rage outside, but inside the house there was only a calm sea of happiness.


End file.
